


the winter court

by twiceasbriight



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, Some hurt/comfort, basically a lot of vampires, medieval vampires, minji is regal af, minji is the vampire queen, siyeon has a sword, siyeon is her vampiric bodyguard, soft and badass singji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29522271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twiceasbriight/pseuds/twiceasbriight
Summary: When an insurrection rises against the reign of Minji, queen of the Winter Court, and attempts to tear the Court to ruins, Minji and her bodyguard, Siyeon, must bring the insurrectionists to justice.
Relationships: Kim Minji | JiU/Lee Siyeon
Comments: 16
Kudos: 121





	the winter court

“That’s _enough_.” Minji’s voice rings out, cold and hard.

The urgent, hushed whispers of the witnesses and audience, and the mocking laughter of Minji’s court immediately settle into a quiet, submissive silence.

The defendant shudders uncontrollably on the white marble floor, curling into himself. His shoulders shake with his cries, and tears spill from his glowing red eyes as he begs for mercy with a desperation and terror that forsake any semblance of dignity.

_Pathetic._

Minji’s lip curls up in disgust, and she just barely catches herself before her sneer would have been wholly visible. She schools her expression back into indifference – she has to remain neutral.

She surveys the members of her court, taking a moment to admire the uniformity of their clothing: black and red velvet waistcoats, cravats and neckties, and polished black boots. Their silver-and-gold wrought chairs sit in a half-moon arc radiating from either side of Minji’s own throne, high-backed and plush with rich purple velvet and veins of gold.

“What say you?” Minji addresses the inner circle of the court. She knows what they’re going to say; their disdain for the shivering, sniveling defendant is clear as day, but they are her most loyal subjects, the highest of status that the Winter Court possesses, and they deserve to have their voices heard.

The members of her inner circle don’t even need to deliberate.

“Kill him,” Bora turns to meet Minji’s eyes. The creature sobbing on the ground by their feet is _nothing,_ lesser even than a mote of dust, and the apathetic carelessness in Bora’s voice tells Minji exactly how little she thinks of his pleas for mercy.

Minji nods.

“You have been heard,” Minji addresses her court. She lifts her chin in acknowledgement of the prosecution and its witnesses standing further behind the defendant. “You have been heard.”

“And _you_ ,” Minji doesn’t bother to hide her contempt of the wretched defendant before her. “You have been heard.” Minji leans back in her throne. “Your sentence is death, for the crimes you have committed against the Winter Court.”

“No!” The defendant sits up, his face streaked with tears and eyes wild with desperation. “Please, Your Highness, I’m begging! I – I have information I can give you, valuable information about the ringleader, _please_!”

Minji’s jaw tightens with anger, icy fury flaring in her chest. Fingers of frost snake from her palms, spreading over the armrests of her throne like tendrils of creeping ice.

“I already have your ringleader,” Minji says coldly, her voice glittering with disdain.

The defendant’s mouth falls open in shock, piscine and helpless.

“You are a disgrace to the Winter Court,” Minji narrows her eyes, “and you will not live to see the next nightfall.”

“No!” The defendant staggers to his feet, his clothes ripped and ruined from the insurrection, his tears tracking clear paths through the grime on his face.

His face reddens with panic and primal terror, and he takes a step toward Minji, clenching his teeth.

A hand brushes the back of Minji’s elbow for a moment, quick and furtive, hidden from the crowd.

A silent question.

Minji shakes her head subtly, just barely enough to be noticeable at close proximity.

The defendant takes a second step, his fingers curling into fists.

“Enough _,”_ Minji’s voice resonates throughout the courtroom, dripping with scorn. “Halt where you stand.”

A third step.

“ _Yubin_.”

Out of the rafters, a swirl of black flits through the air behind the defendant like a darting shadow, accompanied by the chirping of dozens of bats.

Yubin winks into existence midair. She lands gracefully, and the writhing shadows vanish into her skin.

Yubin unsheathes the greatsword on her back with a blindingly fast, fluid movement, twirls it once in her hand, and, with a wicked smirk, decapitates the advancing defendant with a single, clean stroke.

The defendant dissolves into dust before he can scream.

As the dust drifts to settle on the floor, the tension in the courtroom, which had risen considerable over the last several minutes, drains away like a slow exhale.

Yubin twirls her greatsword a second time to flick off the dust, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes, and returns the sword to its sheath. She bows to Minji and moves toward her chair next to Yoohyeon in the inner circle.

“Don’t sit down just yet,” Minji says, quiet and assertive. “You will likely still be needed. We have many testimonies to hear about the insurrection,” her lips twist in distaste, the fresh memories of the cruelty the insurrectionists had subjected onto the citizens of the Winter Court tasting coppery and sour on the back of her tongue. “Come stand by me, please.”

Yubin obeys, stepping up to the left side of the dais, and facing the courtroom. Hands clasped behind her back, standing alert and at attention, the black velvet and gold trim of her regalia contrasting stark and otherworldly against her pale skin, she is the perfect picture of the Winter Court’s executioner.

Minji settles back into her throne once more.

_Let’s get this over with._

“Next,” Minji gestures to Gahyeon, the lavender-haired guard by the gilded double-doors of the entrance to the courtroom.

Gahyeon bows her head in acknowledgement, and reaches up to pull the door open for the next defendant.

Over the course of the next six hours, Minji and the occupants of the courtroom bear witness to the testimony of each insurrectionist, and hear the eyewitness accounts of those who were harmed and injured by the actions of the defendants during the insurrection. She gives voice to the demands of her people, and takes the guidance of her inner circle into account before each sentence.

Yubin and her greatsword are cold and calculating, not a single movement wasted as she lets her sword swing, and she doesn’t even bother to hide her satisfaction with each execution.

Minji’s fury blazes and flares with the entry and testimony of each insurrectionist. The frost spills further from her hands, fingers of icy blue winding down the golden armrests and legs of her throne as she strains to keep her composure level and impassive.

Her inner court is far less controlled; they do not even attempt to disguise their fury and disgust, and the audience watching the proceedings is even less so. It is only out of respect for their queen that they do not jeer or shout or cry, but their eyes blaze scarlet with hatred of the insurrectionists, of those who cruelly maimed and murdered their friends and family without second thought of the consequences.

“Bring him in,” Minji commands, exhaustion and anger simmering under her skin. It’s been six long, grueling hours, and Minji is more than ready to have this terrible, devastating business done with.

Gahyeon opens the doors once more, and the final insurrectionist, the ringleader, enters the courtroom. He walks with a lazy, cocky swagger, an infuriating, maddening grin pulling his cracked lips wide. He shows no regret, no remorse, and _everything_ inside Minji howls and strains for his immediate demise.

Wrath scorches Minji’s chest and throat, rages through her limbs, and she has to physically stop herself from burning him alive. Minji has never been so furious, has never been so alight with hatred.

She’s almost glad when he lunges forward to attack her.

Several things happen at once. Terrified screams erupt from the audience as they look around frantically, searching for another threat, convinced that another insurrection is somehow at hand. A hand squeezes Minji’s shoulder warningly, the air behind her practically emanating tension and vibrating with the force of restraint, and the guards throw themselves at the snarling ringleader, wrestling him back before he can reach their queen.

The ringleader roars in protest, face red, fangs snapping, saliva flying from his mouth, madness glinting in his eyes, and the sight of him so far gone, barely more than an animal, has the searing heat of Minji’s wrath icing over until she’s positively frigid with a different sort of fury, cold and _raw_. The ice bleeds from her fingers, down, down, down her throne to the white marble floor, multiplying and splintering off like splitting branches.

The ringleader throws himself against the guards’ iron grip, desperate in his mad efforts to reach Minji, to tear her apart like he had so many innocents.

The hand tightens on Minji’s shoulder, the barest fraction of additional pressure.

Another silent question, more urgent this time.

Minji looks up and behind at the figure standing imposingly behind her throne. Her platinum blonde hair gleams against the light, stark against the black of her uniform and silver of her breastplate, almost perfectly matching the gold ropes of her aiguillette. Her jaw is clenched, and her eyes are tight with restraint as she waits for Minji’s command. The sight of her bodyguard so outwardly composed and in control, her hand not even on the pommel of her sword, has Minji both impressed and proud. She does not think she could be half as poised in her position.

 _“Can I?”_ Her voice echoes in Minji’s mind, suffused with deadly intent. She’s at the very limit of her self-control, mental voice dripping with scarlet rage, and yet, she holds herself in place obediently for Minji, an apex predator waiting to strike.

Minji meets her eyes, one a searing, icy blue and one entirely gray. Emotion surges in her chest at the sight of her so ready to kill, to let herself loose for her queen.

A subtle nod.

“Siyeon,” Minji turns back to stare the ringleader down, a smirk she cannot resist curving her lips. “He’s all yours.”

It’s over almost before it begins.

Siyeon bursts from behind Minji’s throne like a launched arrow, a black and blonde blur. She unsheathes her sword mid-sprint and throws herself at the ringleader. Siyeon’s good eye glows a virulent, savage scarlet, her fangs flashing, snarling like a primal beast; she is a white-gold wolf unchained.

Minji knows how badly Siyeon wants to tear him apart, to punish and hack and tear and _ruin_ , but her bodyguard remains in control. Siyeon stabs him straight through the heart and _twists_ , and she’s rewarded with a strangled howl of agony, before the ringleader disintegrates into dust and ash.

The courtroom releases an audible sigh of relief.

The guards return to their posts by the entrance, and Siyeon returns to hers behind Minji’s throne, her fingers brushing gentle and subtle against Minji’s arm, a silent _thank you_. It’s more than thanks for letting her take action, for letting her have the kill; it’s _thank you for letting me protect you_.

Minji meets Siyeon’s eyes. She cannot reveal too much, cannot reveal anything really, not in front of the court. But, from this distance, they cannot see the most miniscule of details, so Minji allows the barest trace of warmth to slip through her gaze, disguising it with a nod for their audience. A wordless, affectionate acknowledgement comes through a gentle hum in Minji’s mind.

Minji turns back to her subjects, lifting her chin.

“The insurrectionists are dead,” Minji declares, voice strong and clear, “thus concluding the trials. Tomorrow, we will begin the process of rebuilding what was destroyed, and of remembering and paying the respects to those lost during this horrific tragedy.” Her subjects are rapt and wide-eyed and emanating sheer emotion and loss. “It’s been a long day. Thank you for your patience with the proceedings, and for your bravery in recounting what was done to you, in facing the insurrectionists down. Please return to your homes and rest, and return here at noon tomorrow with your families. The court and I will begin organizing relief efforts and assistance for those who need it in the morning.”

Bora, Handong, Gahyeon, Yoohyeon, Yubin, and the rest of her inner circle look at her with a mixture of approval and pride. It’s a balm on Minji’s soul to know that she’s taking this in the right direction, but the feeling doesn’t even compare to the way the emotion radiating from Siyeon settles and blooms in her chest.

“Dismissed.”

Minji sits upright, maintaining her regal composure as her people begin to exit the courtroom. She stays in place, unmoving and unbreathing, tension and exhaustion pulling her spine taut, until even her inner court has left, and only she and Siyeon remain.

The moment the courtroom door closes behind them with a soft _thud_ , Siyeon is in front of Minji, hands coming up to stroke her hair. The gentle brush of Siyeon’s fingers against her forehead and hair is so soothing and comforting, Minji allows her regal mask to fall just enough to show herself, to show the barest hint of her aching, exhausted heart. She wraps her arms against Siyeon’s waist, pressing her face into her stomach, against the cool metal of her breastplate.

“You did so well, my love,” Siyeon kisses the top of Minji’s head, pulling her close.

Minji takes a deep, shuddering breath, closing her eyes to fend off the tears beginning to brim in her eyes. She cannot let them fall, cannot even remain in such a vulnerable position out in the open, despite their solitude. No one can see her like this; she’s the queen, after all.

Sensing Minji’s struggle to maintain even the bare minimum of composure, Siyeon steps back and helps Minji to her feet.

“Come on,” she encourages, tucking a lock of Minji’s black hair behind her ear. “Let’s get you some rest.”

They walk to Minji’s chambers in silence; Minji’s mask has returned, but it is weakened, and she is afraid that if she speaks, it will crumble to nothing and she will break down into tears in the middle of her castle. Siyeon walks just behind Minji, keeping a respectable distance as her bodyguard, and the comfort of her presence, of the steady reassurance emanating from her, soothes the worst of her pain.

When they arrive at the entrance to Minji’s chambers, Siyeon dismisses the guards standing by, and opens the door for her. Minji steps inside, almost in a daze, and Siyeon follows her inside, closing and locking the gilded door behind them.

Immediately, a sensation of safety and security washes over Minji’s being, and, like it’s been given permission to fall, her mask drops and shatters. Emotion rises like a tidal wave, tightening Minji’s chest and closing her throat, and she falls to her knees, unable to hold back her tears and broken sobs any longer.

Siyeon drops to the floor and wraps her arms around Minji, cradling her close. She rocks Minji gently, scattering butterfly kisses to her temple and the crown of her head, murmuring gentle words of comfort.

Minji’s shoulders shake with the force of her cries; there has been so much suffering, so much grief and agony caused by the insurrection, and the sheer, overwhelming volume of it all threatens to break her in half.

Siyeon holds her until her sobs slow and abate, until she’s caught her breath. Siyeon brushes Minji’s hair out of her eyes, and when Minji looks up at her, she sees Siyeon is crying too. Tears spill from her good eye and drip slowly from her ruined, gray one to streak down her jaw, and Minji’s heart cracks even further.

Reaching up with a shaky hand, Minji brushes her thumb along the two scars that start above Siyeon’s right eyebrow, run down through her gray eye and end at her cheekbone. Siyeon closes her eyes, leaning into Minji’s touch.

“I love you,” Minji breathes, barely audible.

“I love you, too.” Siyeon turns her head to kiss the pad of Minji’s thumb. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Minji nods, inhaling shakily. She climbs out of Siyeon’s lap reluctantly, already missing the warmth of her touch.

Siyeon stands, too, and steps towards the wall by the door, where a wooden hook protrudes. She unbuckles her sheath, sighing as the weight of it and her sword are lifted from her back, and hangs the leather strap attached to the sheath onto the hook.

Siyeon struggles to remove her breastplate, so Minji steps in fluidly, hands coming up to skate along Siyeon’s sides, before undoing the straps.

“Thank you,” Siyeon’s voice is soft and raw. She removes the breastplate and places it carefully on the floor underneath the hook. She turns around to meet Minji’s eyes once more, eyes filled with emotion, blonde hair slightly disheveled, and Minji is struck dumb at how handsome her consort is. She reaches up to run shaking fingers over Siyeon’s features, over the slope of her nose and curve of her lips and the sharp curve of her jaw, and Siyeon’s breath catches in her throat, her blue eye darkening.

“You stood for so long,” Minji presses a soft kiss to the corner of Siyeon’s mouth. “You stayed in control for me, waited for my command, despite how angry you were, despite how badly you wanted to intervene and protect me. How can I –” Minji breaks off, trying to find the right words, her heart stripped bare and filled with an aching yearning to _give_. “How can I take care of you?”

Siyeon’s perfect lips curve in a soft, affectionate smile. She tilts her head to the side in contemplation.

“Will you bathe with me?” Siyeon asks shyly. “I need to get cleaned up, and I’m a little cold.”

Minji’s heart has been inert for centuries, but she swears it stutters in her chest at Siyeon’s bashful request.

“Of course,” Minji smiles. “Let me get the water running.”

She kisses Siyeon’s lips, gentle and warm, and steps into the bathing room that branches off from the bedroom. The room is dark, so Minji strikes the flint resting by the candles, and lights each one, and the room comes alight in flickers of orange-red.

Minji approaches the enormous porcelain bathtub and opens the faucet for the hot water. The tub begins to fill, steam rising in the air, and Minji thanks the gods once more for the mage who had discovered the enchantment for hot, running water.

She hadn’t noticed how freezing she was. Minji’s powers over ice are strong, and she’s more powerful than any vampire she knows, but having ice spilling from her fingers over the last six hours takes its toll, and even she is not immune to the Winter’s power.

Minji turns around just as Siyeon enters, her double-breasted regailic waistcoat half-unbuttoned, partially revealing her white button-up shirt underneath.

“Hi,” Siyeon smiles crookedly.

The air in the bathroom thickens, and Minji finds it suddenly hard to breathe, want lancing through her chest.

Minji reaches up to unbutton the waistcoat, and helps Siyeon remove it, allowing it to fall to the tiled floor.

“Hi,” Minji murmurs, raking her eyes up and down Siyeon's body.

Siyeon tilts her head up just enough to kiss her, smiling into Minji’s lips. The kiss stays gentle and languid and just a little playful, until heat simmers deep in Minji’s veins, until the desire to look and touch becomes too much for Minji to resist.

Minji nips at Siyeon’s lower lip, scraping her sharp incisors across the sensitive skin, and Siyeon’s answering whine nearly has Minji’s knees buckling. She undoes the buttons of Siyeon’s shirt, and Siyeon withdraws her arms from it and throws it to the floor, not allowing their mouths to part for even a single instant.

The next hour passes in warm, hazy flashes: Siyeon skimming her hands up Minji’s waist and around her back to undo the buttons of her black lace dress; the kiss breaking just long enough for them to remove their breastbands and smallclothes; the initial flash of searing heat as they climb into the bathtub, sighing with relief at the warmth of the water; Minji reaching up with a wet cloth to gently clean Siyeon’s body; the delicious sensation of Siyeon massaging Minji’s scalp; the orange firelight casting Siyeon’s face in glowing embers and arching shadows; Minji kissing Siyeon again, this time with hunger and need and greed to touch; the addictive taste of Siyeon’s mouth on hers; working each other up and over the edge with reverent touches and kisses and clever fingers.

And, when the two of them finally fall into bed and curl into each other at the end of it all, Minji isn’t cold anymore. The Winter in her core has abated, and Minji is warmer, and her heart lighter and more at peace than it’s ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> a huge, enormous shoutout to eggo (@insomniaegg on twitter, go follow her), who created the breathtaking singji fanart that this oneshot is based on; I had so much fun bringing it to life!!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this deviation from my multichap updates, I'll be back soon with more fics and updates! As always, please feel free to follow me on Twitter @abracadami for fic writing updates and lots of gay-panicking over Dreamcatcher!


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